Broken Doll
by Silent Cobra
Summary: He kidnaps children and leaves in their place a broken porcelin doll. CSI must break this unbreakable case, and stop the trail of broken dolls, broken bodies, and broken lives. Please read and review.
1. prologue

**Broken Doll**

**By Silent Cobra **

**Standard Disclaimers apply. **

**Pairing: Cath/Warrick **

**prologue**

This couldn't be happening. It just could NOT be happening.

It was dark, and cold.

Strange, it was almost never cold in Vegas, but she could see her breath materializing in front of her like some strange demon made of smoke.

Her small feet hit the ground hard; the sound of her breathing couldn't mask the sound of the heavier footsteps in her wake.

She was being chased!!

Her miniskirt rode up, higher and higher as she ran, her young legs pumping hard.

She was almost finished, and her pursuer knew it. He was taking his sweet time, waiting for her to tire beyond the point of continuing.

The thought of what he would do to her once he caught her gave her an extra burst of speed. A small cry escaped her mouth as she tripped.

It was all over.

The man stood over her. She felt hot tears trail down her cheeks. The man smiled. His face was black, not black like skin, but black as night. She clenched her eyes shut.

He reached down and picked her up, her small body was very light, hardly any trouble at all to carry.

She screamed, and he cuffed her over the head.

She fell into darkness.

He knew where she lived. Her mother was single, her father dead. He did, as he did so many times before, break into the house to leave his calling card.

He loved his calling card.

He smiled as he pulled it out of the bag and set it on the girl's bed.

Poor mommy, he thought, she would be devastated.

He smiled again as he crawled silently from the house.

No trace.

She was scared. She was naked. She desperately wanted her mother. Her mother, whom she sometimes despised, even though she knew that she tried her best for her little girl.

She was terrified as she heard the door open.

The bad man was back.

She felt him touch her. He touched her in places that she knew were not for anyone but lovers to touch, and she had no lovers, and no one was to touch her there.

She wanted to do something, anything to break free.

But she couldn't.

She was trapped like an animal, and the bad man knew it.

He wanted her to suffer.

She whimpered, and he cuffed her across the face.

"No crying, sweet doll, no crying," the bad man whispered.

She was not a doll!

She was human!

She was a little girl, with a mommy who loved her very much!

She had friends!

She had a home!

She was alone…

In the dark…

She was afraid…

Of the dark…

She was dead…

And the darkness was complete.

AN: please read and tell me what you think so far.


	2. Report Case 0501298

**Broken Doll**

**Chapter One (part one of chapter one) : Report- Case file 05-01298**

_This is the tenth case of serial kidnapping in Vegas alone. We've taken to calling him the "Broken Doll Kidnapper," for the calling card he leaves at every kidnapping. A porcelain doll that resembles the girl he kidnapped. The doll has a single crack running down its face._

_Its symbolism isn't lost on us._

_The first case happened on October 29 of 2004. A 14 year old named Rachel Lewis was the first to disappear._

_Location is still unknown. We fear the worst._

_Second one occurred on November 13, 7 years old, name Amanda Jones._

_Location: unknown_

_Third took place on November 25, 10 years old, name Jay Green._

_Location: unknown_

_Fourth, December 1, 4 years old, name Kitty O'Hara._

_Location: Unknown_

_Fifth, December 12, 9 years old, name Abby Nunes._

_Location: Unknown_

_Sixth, December 19, 6 years old, name Hannah Jo._

_Location: Unknown_

_Seventh, December 26, 12 years old, name __Odessa__ Bode._

_Location: Unknown_

_Eighth, __January 1, 2005__, 11 years old, name Ivory Stone._

_Location: Unknown_

_Ninth: January 15, 8 years old, name Sakura Knighting._

_Location: Unknown_

_Tenth, __January 24, 2005__, 10 years old, name, Madison Frank._

_Location: Unknown_

_This case is getting to all of us. Especially me. _

_The dolls are left on the girls' beds. However, no evidence of kidnap is at any of the houses. This has led me to believe that the girls were kidnapped somewhere besides their house._

_Which raises the question of how the man got into their house._

_There are no signs of break-in. This seems almost like the perfect crime._

_Except we all know that no crime is perfect._

_I hope._

_So far, none of the girls have known each other previously. There is only one thing that links them together. They all have single parents, with the other parent deceased._

_They lived in different places, from high rolling money homes, to nearly living on the street. _

_Trace evidence is nearly nonexistent. I can tell you that the dolls are the highest quality. I can't tell you anything about their maker._

_We don't know where the primary crime scenes are. Only what the Broken Doll Kidnapper leaves us._

_There's no such thing as a perfect crime._

_He'll slip up soon, and then we'll have him._

_January 26, 2005_

_CSI Supervisor_

_Catherine Willows_


	3. ch 1 pt 2 Shift change

**Broken Doll**

****

**AN: I don't know Sophia's last name, can someone tell me?**

****

**Chapter One (part two) : Shift Change**

Catherine Willows stood up and walked out of her office. This case was bothering her, a lot. She wanted it to go away.

They needed a break.

The problem with a case this big that lasted this long was the fact that you had other cases to contend with at the same time. Which is what Nick Stokes was doing.

She stuck her head in his tiny office, "Hey Nicky, how's it going?"

"Hey Cath, pretty good. Nothing to dramatic. Just a robbery and attempted car theft."

"Light shift, huh?"

"Yeah, thank God."

Catherine leaned against the door frame. "Any new developments on the Broken Doll case?"

Nick sighed. "No, this guy is damn good. He's left no fingerprints, no fibers, no nothing. And we don't know where the primary crime scenes are."

Catherine nodded glumly and leaned back. She jumped when a hand grazed the small of her back.

"Hey Rick," Nick said. "Anything?"

Warrick had spent the shift on the computer, looking for anything resembling the Broken Doll case.

"Yeah…"

Catherine spun to face him. "You have something!"

Nick stood up and checked his watch. "Well, shift is over, let's tell the Graves folks, and get the hell outta here."

Nick finished printing his last report and walked out of the office. Catherine looked at Warrick, a mix of fear and hope in her eyes.

"What do you have?" she whispered softly.

"Nothing good," he pulled out the documents he was holding, "Vegas is not the first time this guy has struck. There have been similar cases in Portland, Boston, DC, and Ft. Lauderdale."

Catherine slumped in defeat. "How many total?"

"Eighty-five."

Catherine turned her face away from him. He reached out with one arm and pulled her against him. She choked back a startled sob.

This case was really getting to her. Warrick kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"C'mon, beautiful. We need to pass the information."

Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders, and Nick were waiting in the debriefing room as Warrick and Catherine walked in.

"Rick says he has something," Nick muttered. All eyes turned to Warrick Brown.

"I spent my shift on the computer and the phone, talking to agents from around the USA. The Broken Doll Kidnapper isn't new. He has a total of…" Warrick drifted off and heaved a sigh, staring at the statistics on his paper.

"Tell them," Catherine whispered so softly they could barely hear her.

"A total of eighty-five victims. None of them have ever been found."

"Eighty-five?" Sara asked in surprise, "Where else has this guy worked?"

"Portland, Boston, DC, and Ft. Lauderdale," Catherine said.

"Lauderdale?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, happened nearly eight years ago. This guy goes in spurts."

"So, we have a national case on our hands," Grissom said.

"Yeah, we do."

No one spoke for a minute; they just stared at each other in a sad silence. If this man had been working for eight years and had never been caught, did they stand a chance?

They didn't have a choice. They had to win.

Warrick handed his findings over to Greg. "Good luck guys, call if anything comes up."

The Graveyard team nodded glumly. Nick, Warrick, and Catherine headed out. They walked slowly down the hallway and signed out at the front desk.

"See ya later, Cath, Rick," Nick waved as he got into his truck and drove off into the night. Warrick leaned against Catherine's car.

"Come to my place," Catherine whispered. She was shivering. Even though it was well into the seventies, she was cold; the cold that had nothing to do with the weather.

Warrick nodded and climbed into her car. She slumped into the driver's seat and started the car. She stared straight ahead, hardly seeing.

"Cath, you want me to drive?"

She jumped, almost as if she had forgotten that he was in the car.

"Sure, maybe that's a good idea." They traded seats. Warrick pulled the car onto the street, and drove for Catherine's house.

When they pulled into the driveway, the porch light was on, just as it always was. Warrick and Catherine climbed from the car and Catherine unlocked the door. They walked in.

"Lindsey, I'm home," Catherine called into the house. Lindsey usually waited up for her mother to get home.

Silence answered her. Catherine dropped her coat on the couch and walked towards Lindsey's room. She must be really tired if she had already fallen asleep.

Warrick stood silently in the living room, a little awkward, if truth be told. He wasn't entirely sure why she had asked him here, but he had hopes…the incident in the storm drain…

Catherine's frown deepened as she reached Lindsey's room. She slowly pushed to door open. The lights were off, but the room was silent.

"Don't tell me she snuck out again," Catherine hissed at herself.

Catherine hit the lights.

A feral shriek ripped from her throat.


	4. Supplement Report

Chapter Two Part One: Supplement Report

This is a very short chapter.

_The Broken Doll case is all the rage here, and nation wide. Eighty-five cases. When Warrick told us, I could hardly believe it. What kind of sick bastard is this?_

_The sickest._

_No new trace evidence. No DNA. This man (we're assuming it's a man, but as Grissom would say, assuming makes an ass out of you and me) seems to be a robot. I mean, how many people can leave NOTHING at a crime scene?_

_Interviewed the first victim's father, Jonas Lewis.__ He had nothing of new interest to add to the case, only prayed that we find his daughter and catch the assholes who did this to her._

_Quoting him.__ Don't kill me Grissom._

_This case is getting to all of us. We can barely stay at home before we somehow find ourselves back here, working at this apparently unsolvable case._

_I hate it._

_The Broken Dolls are in a small closet here at HQ, each lined up in the order the girls disappeared. None of us, not even Ecklie, can stand to be in that room. That's how bad it is._

_The lab has come to an understanding; all the shift supervisors and all the CSIs are working together on it. This is the one case we must solve._

_I contacted the __Ft.__Lauderdale__ Crime Lab, they faxed their results to us. Same thing we had._

_Jack Shit._

_I can hear Grissom's phone ringing, I better go answer it._

_CSI Level one_

_Supplement Report to Catherine Willows_

_January 27, 2005_

_Greg Sanders _


	5. One plus Ten equals EightySix

Chapter Two Part Two: And One plus Ten Equals Eighty-Six

Warrick spun when Catherine's scream erupted from the hallway. He ran down the hall, his hand on his holster. Catherine was standing in front of Lindsey's bedroom door, tears streaming down her face. She was leaning against the door frame.

He paused behind her and looked into the room. It seemed unnaturally bright. And then he saw it, sitting on Lindsey's bed.

A Broken, Porcelain Doll.

"Shit," with one arm, Warrick reached out and grabbed Catherine. He spun her towards him and pressed her face into his chest. She was sobbing, and screaming against him.

He fumbled for his cell phone and was able to grab it. Grissom's office was speed dial one, so he called.

"C'mon!"

He rubbed small circles on Catherine's back, knowing that he couldn't do much to comfort her.

Grissom's Office

Greg looked up from typing his report. Grissom's phone was ringing and he was no where around. He stood up and walked into the office. He grabbed the phone, "Gil Grissom's office, Greg Sanders speaking."

"Greg!"

"Warrick?"

"Greg, we need you guys here, right now!"

Greg could hear muffled sobs in the immediate background. Greg looked up as Grissom, Sara, and Sophia walked in, glancing at him quizzically.

"Warrick, what's happened?"

"Bring Nick, too."

"Warrick! Tell me what happened!" Greg started to feel a thread of fear unravel in his stomach. He punched the speaker phone button as Sophia shut the door.

"There's been another kidnapping," Warrick sounded defeated when he said it. The Graveyard CSIs looked at each other in shocked silence.

The muffled sound of the woman screaming grew softer.

"Warrick, where are you?" Grissom asked.

There was a beat of silence and then, "Catherine's house."

"Catherine?" Sara's face paled. "Oh God, Lindsey?"

Sophia sunk to the floor in shock. Grissom just stared at the phone and Greg sunk into the chair.

"Please, guys, hurry. Call Nick. I gotta go. When you get here, just walk right in, we'll be in the living room." He hung up. The graveyard CSIs looked at each other in silent horror.

This had just gotten personal.

Catherine's House

Warrick snapped his phone shut and tossed it on the floor. He only had one thing on his mind right now. He gently took Catherine with both arms and began to slowly take her to the living room.

She howled in frustration and tried to run back to her little girl's room, but Warrick caught her and simply lifted her off her feet. He carried her to the living room and set her down on the couch. He dropped next to her, holding her.

She clutched his shirt with one hand and beat his chest with the other. How could this have happened? His shirt was damp from her tears and his sweat.

He checked the time. Every second counted. Where were they?

En Route to Catherine's House

Sara held on to the edges of her seat as Nick barreled around the corners and flew im between cars.

"Has anyone called Brass or O'Riley yet?"

"Sophia said she would call from the other Tahoe."

"I can't believe this shit!" Nick snarled. How could the asshole have kidnapped Lindsey?

"I know, Nicky, I know."

Nick slammed his foot on the brake and the Tahoe slid sideways into Catherine's driveway. They threw themselves from the Chevy's belly and ran towards the door as Greg drove up in the other Tahoe with Grissom and Sophia.

Warrick looked up as the door opened slowly. Catherine was lying across him, straddling his legs. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck. She didn't look up when Sophia spoke.

"Where?"

"Down the hall, first door to the left," Warrick whispered softly.

Grissom looked at the two of them; Warrick looked slightly self-conscious as Grissom studied them.

"Get her out of here, Warrick. She'll have to be pulled from this case."

Catherine leapt to her feet. "NO! You can't expect me to just sit and watch while you do all the work!"

Warrick climbed to his feet and stood behind Catherine. He was ready to grab her if she threw herself at Grissom.

"You can still work the case, Catherine, just not any of the local Vegas ones."

Catherine was seething. How dare that man? How dare he walk in here when he daughter was out there somewhere…

She choked back a sob. She felt a pair of strong arms encircle her and slowly lead her out the door. Warrick. Warrick was here, he would protect her.

She allowed him to lead her to his car. He buckled her seatbelt and climbed into the driver's seat. He started the car and sped away from the driveway.

Totally illegal, but no one was going to stop him.

Not now.

Catherine's House

Sara knelt next to the bed and studied the doll. It was the same as the others; a perfect replica of the victim, only with a crack running down its face. She snapped pictures of it and placed it within an evidence box.

She then processed the sheets, looking for anything of interest. There were a lot of blond hairs, mostly Lindsey's probably; but she bagged each one anyway.

Greg walked in and took the doll out of the box. He stared at it in disgust.

"What the?"

He looked at Sara. "Did you notice this?"

She stood up and walked over to him. "My God, he screwed up!"

There was a fiber lodged in the crack of the doll's face. Sara and Greg stared at each other, silently taking in the fact that they may have a small break in this damn case.

Greg reverently placed the doll back in the evidence box and sealed it.

"I'll get it to trace."

"I hope Catherine's okay," Sara whispered suddenly. Greg paused and looked at the senior CSI.

"So do I, Sara, so do I."

Grissom knelt outside the house, looking for any signs of forced entry. Again, there was nothing. This guy left no foot prints, no evidence of ever being there.

Sophia walked out, followed closely by Greg and Sara. Greg had a box under his arm and Sara was carrying both their kits.

"What've you got?" Grissom asked.

"There's a fiber in the crack on the doll," Sara said, a small, yet sad, smile on her face.

"I found something interesting outside of Lindsey's bedroom door, seminal stain," Sophia said. They stared at each other.

"You think this guy…raped Lindsey in the house?"

"We won't know until we get the sample to the lab if there's vaginal contribution in it," Sophia said darkly, "But I suggest that we not tell Catherine quite yet, I don't think she'd handle it very well."

They nodded and stood in a small circle, staring at the ground. Cases rarely got this personal. Nick walked out of the house a few minutes later.

"I..uh…found this." He handed Grissom an evidence bag with a picture in it. It was an image of a girl, not Lindsey, tied down, totally naked. The girl was blindfolded and there was a man standing next to her. The image of the man cut off just above the waist, giving a good view of his penis.

"That's sick," Greg hissed.

Grissom looked at his fellow CSIs. "Let's get back to the lab."

They all looked at each other again.

This shit was personal.


	6. Supplement Report

Chapter Three Part One: Supplement Report

_Victim Number Eleven/ Eighty-Six_

_Name: Lindsey Willows_

_Age: 13_

_Current Location: Unknown_

_CSI Swing Shift_

_Nick Stokes_


	7. A Need to be Distracted

Chapter Three Part Two: A Need to be Distracted

AN: this chapter is pure W/C fluff…well as fluffy as this story gets.

Warrick pulled onto his street and risked a glance at Catherine. She was in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. Her cheeks and shirt were stained with tears; her fists were slowly clenching and unclenching on her pants. In short, she was beautiful.

He shook his head. He should so NOT be thinking about his feelings for her the night she'd lost her daughter. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he pulled into his driveway.

"We're here, c'mon Catherine." She didn't move. Warrick shut his door and walked around to the passenger side. He opened her door and peered down at her. She wasn't moving.

He reached across her chest and unbuckled her seatbelt. He grasped her arm and pulled her from the car. He shut the door and they headed slowly for his front door. He unlocked it and led Catherine inside. He tugged on her arm and made sure she sat on his couch.

He went to his kitchen and got two MGDs out of the fridge. He returned to the living room and handed one of the long-neck bottles to Catherine. She downed it in under a minute.

He paused, staring at her. He handed her his beer and went to get another one for himself. He sat back down and continued to watch her.

"Why?" she whispered softly, staring at her second empty beer bottle. He didn't reply, figuring she wanted to blow some steam. "Why Lindsey?"

She looked up, but didn't see anything. "Why God damn it?" She threw the beer bottle as hard as she could. It crashed into the wall and shattered. She started to sob.

"I'm sorry, I'll clean it up."

"No," Warrick said, speaking for the first time. "Leave it, it's not going anywhere."

Catherine covered her face. Tears fell from between her fingers. Warrick wasn't quite sure what to do. This woman was the strongest person he knew, and he just wasn't sure how to comfort her…if he could.

She mumbled something into her hands.

"What?" He asked. He hadn't understood her.

She looked up at him, green eyes meeting shimmering blue ones.

"Fuck me."

Warrick's mouth fell open and she took the opportunity to kiss him.

He was frozen in shock as her lips worked his. Her tearstained cheeks pressed against his. She straddled his waist and began to shift her weight around suggestively.

What the hell is she thinking? Warrick thought. He finally broke down and responded ever so slightly to her kisses.

This was so NOT happening.

"Catherine… what?'

"Shut up."

She bit his lower lip, never looking him directly in the eyes. He felt blood gush into his mouth and she licked it up.

He had to get the upper hand here.

He reached up and grabbed her wrists. He flipped over, so she was under him. She moaned and pushed her hips against his.

He closed his eyes tightly. God he wanted this, but not like this.

"Catherine! Catherin-" he stopped talking as she pressed her lips against his again. Damn, this was getting very out of hand.

"Just do it, damn it," she hissed against his lips. He tightened his grip on her wrists and stood up, pulling her with him. She tripped and fell against his chest, a look of shock on her face.

"You want this?" Warrick hissed.

He jerked her wrists again. She kissed him and bit his lip again. He winced as the pain flared. She pulled back and began to ravish his neck.

He shut his eyes in defeat. She only wanted to be distracted. Hell, she'd probably do this if he was Greg, or hell, even Ecklie.

Naw, he hoped she would never sink _that _low.

He gave in and pulled her back to his bedroom. She wanted it rough, she had already demonstrated that. He moved her wrists into one hand and ripped her blouse off with the other. It tore into shreds and littered the floor.

He flipped her easily onto the bed and crawled on top of her. She quickly pulled his shirt from his body and started to work on his pants. He ripped hers off, ruining the dry clean only slacks.

Maybe he needed distracted too.

Their clothes lay on the floor.

It was so hot.

Images flashed through his mind as she mounted him; when she was attacked at the crime scene, the whole thing with the finger, talking about their high school days, that day in the drain…

Oh God, he was officially screwed when it came to Catherine Willows.

They moved together, friction adding to the heat in the room. Moans, screams, purrs, muffled whispers, all added to the air conditioner's background hum.

Catherine's mind was blank. All that mattered right now was the man underneath her. Her head was flung back, her chest heaving.

It had been a very long time since she had had sex like this. Most men preferred to be on top.

She felt Warrick convulse underneath her. He was near.

He grunted, and his seed spilled into her womb. She gave a muffled scream as she reached her peak and rolled off of him.

She reached down and pulled the covers over both of them.

She was done.

Warrick rolled away from her and curled into the fetal position. What in the hell had he just done? He felt tears well in his eyes and drift onto his pillow.

Good Lord, he loved Catherine, and he felt like he had just taken advantage of her.

He could hear her heavy breathing. The room smelled of sex, and the sheets were soiled with their sweat.

He could not believe what had just happened. He curled into a tighter ball and hugged his knees to his chest, and he let the tears fall.

Catherine lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She felt as if she had a giant hole in her heart where her daughter was supposed to be. She rolled over and faced Warrick, but all she saw was his back.

She frowned when she noticed his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. She reached out and touched him. He had comforted her; it was only fair that she return the favor, even if she didn't understand why he was crying.

He froze under her touch. She spooned against him, their bodies merging together. She buried her face in his neck.

For years she had hid her growing lust for Warrick, and hid it quite well. It had all tumbled down around her when they went down the drain. She realized at that moment that it hadn't been lust.

Be still her heart, she was in love.

She felt a tear roll down her cheek and hit his back and continue until it hit the sheets.

What had started as lust, had turned into love, and was consummated with a need to be distracted.

What irony the gods have.


End file.
